the cinderella who submitted
by the moonlight mona lisa
Summary: she swallowed up the sun because she wasn't afraid of the dark. — elsa, pitch.


**Because while I am a fan of Jack/Elsa, I feel Pitch/Elsa could really have a lot of substance, and we're not exactly thinking it through all the way. **

**I was going to do this whole big part where Elsa has a dream of Jack and Tooth and whatnot but I cut it out because it was… iffy and detracted from the rest of the story… kind of. Dunno, I just didn't like it.**

**I don't own either movie, nor do I own Pitch's line from ROTG, and I do not own Drella by Pierce the Veil, which sort of inspired this piece.**

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><p><strong>the cinderella who submitted<strong>

**(some cinderella she turned out to be, swallowing up the sun like that.)**

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><p>His laugh is sickening.<p>

That's the first thing she learns about him. As a child, when she used to fall asleep, his laugh would haunt her, and shadows would be everywhere she looked. There was no escaping the dream world, unless you woke up. But Elsa never could. The laugh was everywhere, and she would look for the source, and all she would see were two yellow haunting eyes

They were nightmares, and Elsa would often find herself never wanting to sleep.

She would stay up, against her door, listening for something, _anything_, that wasn't that laugh. It was impossible to escape. Tears would streak her face and she would sit by her door and wait, but it wouldn't go away. She could cover her ears and think about anything other than yellow eyes and horrible laughs, but it wouldn't stop.

Eventually, she gave up trying to stop it.

.

.

As she gets older, the laugh gets clearer. It's stopped bothering her, but she sometimes wishes it would go away and leave her alone like the rest of the world has done. Though there is a part of her that finds comfort in the fact that something is still talking – laughing, but whatever – to her, even if it _is _an imaginary voice. She grows tired of hearing nothing but her breathing and the wind and Anna's desperate pleas for her to come out of her room.

But then she hears it again.

Except it's not a laugh. It's a voice. It blares everywhere, and it's the first new voice Elsa has heard in a very long time.

"Elsa, heed my call."

It's the first time someone else has said her name. The years are grueling, and although Elsa is unsure if this is just her imagination or something trying to possess her, pieces of her are excited about this new development.

She finally has someone else to talk to.

.

.

The conversations are never boring.

As a young woman, Elsa finds that going through years without social contact could really bother a person. Her parents talk to her, yes, but there is a line to draw between parents and a friend.

You can't tell parents everything, Elsa notes, but friends… Well, friends are excellent secret keepers.

Especially this one.

Judging by the voice, she assumes her best friend is male. They laugh at things as she watches the town from her window. He makes her smile, and she tells him all her secrets – why she has to stay locked in her room, why she wishes she could come out, why she hates her powers, and most importantly, what she's afraid of.

It's one long list of fears.

She swears she hears a smirk grace upon his invisible lips. "Is that right?"

She expected him to comfort her fears and tell her they were rational, but he does nothing of the sort. He simply asks her that question and then there is a loud silence.

It seems the conversation is over for today.

.

.

When her parents die, Elsa stops hearing the voice.

It's grown too cold in her room, ice everywhere, snow falling slowly, and Elsa's sure her tears are icicles. She can hear Anna on the other side of the door, and she wants to come out, but she doesn't want to hurt Anna. She'll really hurt her if she comes out of her room, at least in this state.

It's a time like this when Elsa wishes he would talk to her. They haven't spoken since that day, and Elsa finds herself more alone then she has ever felt in years.

When Anna leaves her post, Elsa puts her face in her knees.

"Oh, now Elsa, wipe those tears away."

.

.

When she runs away, he starts talking to her again.

He's proud of her for asserting herself and finally feeling free, leaving behind things she doesn't need, like the kingdom and her people. He tells her that they were just a burden, and now her full potential can come out of hiding.

Elsa makes no comment on that. She's not too sure what he means, and before she can ask, he chuckles.

"Oh, by the way Elsa, are you afraid of the dark?"

She wants to shake her head because no, she's never been afraid of the dark, but that would be a lie. He used to scare her with all his shadows and darkness, and that still haunts her. He chuckles, and she knows he's waiting for her answer.

She nods, "Yes, I am..."

"Oh dear," he says with a sigh, "What a shame."

.

.

He appears to her castle one day, all unexpected and out of the blue.

"Who are you?"

"Oh, Elsa, don't you recognize me?" he asks, and his voice is so familiar… Elsa lets out a gasp, because yes, yes, she recognizes him and that voice and those haunting, yellow eyes.

"…Pitch?"

"That I am."

Elsa's not sure what to do. What would be appropriate? A hand shake, a hug? Suddenly, Elsa feels a child, colder than herself, even, and she notices he's behind her. When he touches her, she feels too cold and shivers.

"Are you afraid of the dark?" he asks, words like howling, cold wind against her skin.

She shakes her head this time. No, she's not afraid, nor will she ever be again.

"Oh? Then what _are _you afraid of?"

Elsa pauses to think for a moment, and the words leave her mouth before she has a chance to stop them.

"…_Myself_. I'm afraid of myself."

.

.

He's much, much colder and darker than she first anticipated.

When he passes behind her, the words _"you're a monster" _suddenly ring from everywhere and everybody she can think of, including Anna. They all think she's a monster, and he's there and Elsa's not sure what to do except cry.

"Whatever's the matter, Elsa?"

"I-I'm a monster!"

She feels the need to attack Pitch because he's _too _cold and he needs to stop making her shiver. She raises her arms in defense, ready to let the ice flow from her fingertips.

"No, _you're_ not the monster," he says, with some kind of cruel frown, "_they _are," he finishes, pointing towards the town.

"T-they're the monsters?" she asks, unsteadily.

"Yes, of course they are. Look what they made you do! Look how they forced you away from your own home without even giving you a chance!"

Elsa blinks, dropping her arms. He's _right_. They forced her out and made her an outcast without giving her a chance, and without trying to understand her.

"Now, don't you think _they _deserve a little fear?"

"I… I don't know. They're already going through this winter – "

"But it's not enough, is it? Look how they made you feel."

Oh, he has _so _many good points… "Yes, you're… you're right."

"Then let's give them the coldest, darkest winter they've ever seen."

"But… I don't want to hurt them…"

"Oh, come on Elsa. What goes together better than cold and dark? We can make them believe. We'll give them a world where everything is _pitch black_."

…Why was he always _right_? Elsa's not sure how he's gotten her to believe him, but he has a lot of answers, and many of them are right. She doesn't seem to hear the last half of his sentence, otherwise she probably would've objected, but her better judgment has left her far behind.

"What about Anna?"

"She'll be _fine_. Don't worry. We won't let anything happen to your sister."

"Do you promise?"

"I do."

"Okay."

And Elsa gave in too fast. She had made a promise to other strange people – a flying woman, and a man who had powers just like her – that she wouldn't give in, but Pitch made everything feel better and had all the answers she was looking for. His kiss burns her, and she feels like she's melting… except she's not. It's just the kiss.

Elsa gave in too fast, yes, she'll admit that, but she would never let herself admit that it was the wrong choice.

.

.

**(looks like i'm not the only one now.)**

**end**


End file.
